


Interrogation Table

by BookedbyFandoms, delicatelyglitterywriter



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Big Sister Bobbi Morse, Crime AU, Daisy Johnson Is A Sweetheart, Gen, Jemma Simmons Needs a Hug, Major character death - Freeform, Torture Threats, tw for violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-18 00:27:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9354281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookedbyFandoms/pseuds/BookedbyFandoms, https://archiveofourown.org/users/delicatelyglitterywriter/pseuds/delicatelyglitterywriter
Summary: Criminal mastermind Jemma Simmons has always been ruthless and efficient in her job. Emotions have never been a problem. Until she comes into contact with her past, that is. Crime AU





	

 

Jemma carefully dodged around the corner in the ‘bad’ part of the city, pulling her cardigan tight around her body in the brisk winter winds. She quickened her pace, rushing to get to the meeting point before her source does. Although, she supposed, she is thinking of Hunter. He’s never been on time yet. She briefly considered stopping for churros from the cart at the corner, but checked her watch and decides against it in the interest of time.

She sat down on the park bench, where, as usual, Hunter is late to. With a sigh, she pulled out a book from her purse and started to read. The words were comforting, despite her having memorized them long ago. And soon the pages and letters filled the empty time, until she felt a tap on her shoulder and swirled around.

“Hunter! Don’t make me jump like that!”

“Sorry princess. Y’know, I never understood how a cupcake like you could be a rising star in the criminal underworld and still get scared so easily.”

“I’ve told you, being a young prodigy with very little to occupy her time leads to picking up certain hobbies that are very useful when operating as a criminal mastermind.”

He laughed. “If you say so. I have the layouts you asked for.” Hunter handed her a manila folder, stuffed to the brim with the layouts of every HYDRA Labs facility in a 60 mile radius.

She smiled gratefully. He winked, and then pretended, (or maybe not, one could never be quite sure with him) to spot something interesting on the opposite side of the park, and got up from the bench abruptly. Jemma took this as her sign to leave. She put the folder in her bag and crossed the street.

The sky was gray and damp, and the light was muted. She smiled. Weather like this reminded her of home, and it provided a decent cover. She had started to enjoy the long walks home as time to clear her head and forget the unpleasantness of her job. It was monotonous, and it was routine. That was something she was afforded rarely enough to enjoy.

Just then, a navy blue blur sped around the corner, short black hair flying out behind her. Jemma smiled shortly. A cop. Just what she needed. Swiftening her pace, Jemma plastered a sweet-as-sugar smile to her face.

She tapped the woman on the back. “Excuse me, Officer? I was wondering if you could help me with something?”

She turned around and Jemma recognized her as Daisy Johnson, a rookie cop with a reputation for getting into trouble and the skills to get out of it. A perfect target. Daisy grinned brightly.

“What can I help you with?” she asked.

“Oh, thank you! You see, I need information. Unfortunately, it happens to be classified,” she said smoothly, before promptly knocking her out.

She dragged the cop's limp body around the corner and opened up her phone to make a call.

"Doug? Can you be at the alley behind that Indonesian restaurant in 5 minutes? Bring handcuffs and rope. Thanks."

Doug came through promptly, and Johnson was quickly cuffed and driven to their warehouse, where her hands were secured behind her. Doug wanted to tie her up, but Jemma knew that he couldn’t do squat in the area of knot-tying, and so she made him leave. She got the knots done in less than two minutes.

She then sat down and waited, continuing to read her book while she did.

A little while later, she heard a soft groan from the corner and she glanced over, and saw Agent Johnson slowly waking up. She put her bookmark in and put the book down. She didn’t say anything yet; she merely waited for her prisoner to awaken fully.

It appeared that Daisy’s first instinct was to try to free herself. Jemma watched on with an air of indifference as Daisy yanked on the ropes a few times before she finally stood up and spoke.

“Not going to work, you know. Too tight. I made sure of that.” Daisy looked up at the sound of her voice. Her eyes went wide and she gasped.

“You!” was all Daisy could manage to utter out. Jemma smiled smugly at her.

"I- I can't believe you! You have the nerve to disappear off the map and become a criminal? Is this what you've been doing for the past two years? Tying innocent people up!" Daisy sputtered. Jemma Simmons, here, of all places. She had been a top cadet at SHIELD Police and Forensics academy, Daisy's year. Jemma studied biochem in relation to solving crimes, along with her regular job at Stark Laboratories. By all accounts, she was poised to graduate valedictorian.

But then she had disappeared, with only one email to the director of the program, Phil Coulson, saying that she was dropping out. It had been the hottest gossip around the school. Her departure had eventually faded into school lore. And now Daisy was face to face with her. Tied up. In a secret lair of sorts.

"Well, it’s not like this is my hobby," she said, clearly annoyed. "And you're hardly innocent. You have something that I need. That, Ms. Johnson, makes you a target."

Daisy tried to remember the protocol for kidnappings and ransom. Hypothetically, she should be out of here fast, as soon as the ransom was paid. Hypothetically. But in her experience as a police officer, what should happen rarely did. She glared at her captor and made herself comfy against the concrete. She might as well get used to it.

A few moments passed in silence, in which Jemma paced impatiently back and forth, muttering something about incompetence. After these moments had passed, a man entered the room, carrying a chair. Daisy pursed her lips, especially when it was placed facing the metal table in the room.

Daisy was hauled roughly to her feet and made to sit down in the chair. Her arms were secured tightly to the chair and then Jemma’s henchman left. Daisy instinctively tried to pull herself free, watching Jemma closely.

Jemma paced around the table as Daisy struggled with her bonds, but it was no use, her captors knew their stuff.

"So," Jemma said, "What makes you think you could go up against us?"

"Maybe because it’s my job?" she shot back, a snarl edging her words. Jemma let out a bark of laughter at her (very poor, in her opinion) logic.

"Oh, and that makes you think you're superior to me how, exactly? We all make a living, Ms. Johnson. Except some of us are good at our jobs," she said with a sniff. Daisy had been in situations like this before, but she had never seen this rawly arrogant side. Simmons wasn't a violent interrogator, she was more precise, like a surgeon with a scalpel. She shuddered, thinking of her as a doctor of any type was rather frightful.

Daisy stopped tugging at her restraints and instead tilted her head, both fascinated and admittedly a bit intimidated by her captor.

"Not to mention that you _being_ a cop is what landed you here in the first place," Jemma added.

"No, me having an interest in justice!" she spit.

Simmons laughed. "Justice? That's what you think you do?" She leaned across the table. "There is a difference between following the law and pursuing justice."

"What, and you think you're that difference? You've stolen countless shipments of medicines. Just think how many lives that could have saved!"

Her eyes were cold. "Those shipments were redistributed at a lower price. You may think that what I do is stealing, but it's more righteous than anything you've ever done."

Daisy snarled, lunging at her, but was stopped short by her restraints. Jemma glossed over Daisy judgmentally and then turned her back. Daisy resumed trying to free herself as Jemma collected… whatever she was collecting; whether it was herself or her torture devices, Daisy didn't know. Truthfully, Daisy didn't _want_ to know.

As much as it pained her to admit it, she felt a begrudging admiration for the woman. Sure, she was evil and cold blooded, but she was smart. And, she knew how to scare someone without resorting to brutality. She was intelligent and tough. And that made her all the more dangerous still.

She inwardly scolded herself for not waiting for her partner. If she'd simply followed orders and waited for Bobbi to arrive, she'd probably not be tied to a chair. Then again, if she had waited, Bobbi might be tied up along with her.

She sighed, knowing that there was nothing to be done for her current situation. "What do you want from me?"

Jemma turned. "What I want is simple. I want your information."

Daisy snorted. "Like there's anything we know that you haven't already illegally obtained."

"Are you going to tell me that the government doesn't have the specs on the Hydra Labs? We'd like those.”

Daisy stopped and smiled sarcastically at her. "Well, why don't you just call them up and ask them for those? I'm sure they'd happily hand them over if you used your please's and you thank you's."

Jemma raised her eyebrows at the sarcasm. She smiled sweetly, before tossing her hair over her shoulder and walking towards a cabinet in the corner. Daisy tried to keep still, showing no signs of the panic she was feeling. She kept a close eye on her interrogator, trying to recall her training. Suddenly, quick as a viper, Simmons whipped around and banged her fist on the metal table. Daisy would have jumped out of her skin if she wasn't properly restrained.

"I need your intel," she said through gritted teeth.

Daisy gulped, but rolled her shoulders back, determined not to show her fear. Bits and pieces of information from the police academy trickled into her mind, and she clung to them as one would to a life preserver. She squared her jaw and looked Jemma dead in the eye.

"No."

Jemma's smile grew dangerously sweet. "I'm not entirely sure you know how this works, Ms. Johnson. I ask the questions. You answer. Or there will be consequences."

"You say that like I'm afraid of you." Daisy didn't know what possessed her to say that; whether it was her training, or just pure instinct. Perhaps it was both. She just knew that she had to take control of the situation. And what better way to do that than by taking away the other person's power by suggesting that fear wasn't at play? Of course, if it was a lie, it might not work, but she had to at least try.

"Oh, but you are. I won't harm you, no sense in doing that, but your partner, Agent Morse, is it? She should be here by now. It may be because my agents apprehended her."

"You're lying!"

"Perhaps so, or perhaps I will torture her right in front of you."

"You're sick," Daisy sneered.

"No, I'm not. I do what it takes to get the job done.” Daisy heard a hard, painful edge in her voice, suggesting there was something more to the statement then she let on.

Daisy let out a low, animalistic growl. She may not be the best, the most upstanding cop around, but she could not, and would not tolerate a fellow cop, a partner, a _friend_ being tortured.

That was the difference between cops and criminals, she supposed - one were a moral and kind group, and one were just evil.

Jemma smirked. "I suppose you have something to tell me?"

Daisy was conflicted. She loved Bobbi like her own sister, and _no one_ was getting tortured under her watch, but giving her the information she wanted could prove deadly and disastrous. As a cop, she swore to protect the people. And as much as it pained her, the lives of the many outweigh the lives of the few. Besides, Bobbi was smart. There was no way her gang of thugs had captured her, she reassured herself.

Jemma tapped her foot. "Well? Tick-tock, Agent Johnson."

As much as she reassured herself that Bobbi would be fine, that Bobbi was okay, that Bobbi had _not_ been captured, she couldn't help but hear Bobbi's screams in her head. That'd been a cold, hard, desperate day.

She bowed her head and squeezed her eyes shut, desperately trying to force the sound out of her brain. But try as she might, she just couldn't. She felt tears burning in her eyes, but she fought them back, took a deep breath and forced the words out.

"I will never, _ever_ give you what you want."

Jemma sighed and shook her head. She then turned away. "Fine. Have it your way, Agent Johnson."

With that, she slipped into the shadows, pressing herself against the wall right next to the door.

Daisy looked down and yanked her bonds with such desperation that Jemma almost felt sorry for her.

Almost.

Now, she thought, what to do about that pest Morse. She was supposed to be a top police Officer, loyal to a fault. And although Jemma had been lucky enough to never have come into contact with her, her reputation spoke for itself. She would have to send some of her people to take care of her. A staged accident, perhaps? She wondered when she'd become so comfortable with the idea of staging killing in cold blood. But it was what she had to do to survive. And Jemma was a survivor, if nothing else. She looked back at Daisy, who was now snarling, trying desperately to free herself. She'd crack. She was sure of it.

Just then, her phone buzzed. She ducked out of the room to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hey, boss-”

“Doug!” she growled, balling her free hand into a fist. “How many times do I have to tell you not to interrupt me in the middle of an interrogation?”

“I know, boss, and I’m sorry, but Agent Morse has just shown up.”

Jemma perked up, but immediately became suspicious, and then hesitant. Morse showing up at just the right time was far too easy to be anything but a trick. She sucked in her bottom lip thoughtfully before releasing it so that she could smirk.

“Doug, bring Agent Morse to me. Alive.”

“On it, boss.” A dial tone followed. Now, Jemma thought, what torture playthings were in that cabinet?

"So, what makes someone turn to doing what you do? How twisted can you possibly get? What makes a human that _evil_?" Daisy asks, sneering. Jemma clenched her fist, breathing hard. She'd had plenty of practice concealing her emotions, but Daisy had struck a nerve. She turned around suddenly.

“You want to know? You want to know what could have possibly made me do this?" She slammed her fist on the metal table, but her voice kept the same soft, dangerous tone. "Once upon a time I lived what you would call a normal life. Top biochemist at Stark Industries, idyllic life, incredible boyfriend, the lot of it." Her mind drifted off to the day her life had disappeared completely,

_"Wake up, Jemma," he said, sunlight streaming over their bodies in the morning light. She had curled herself deeper into the soft sheets. "Ugh, Fitz. What time is it?"_

_"Too late for you to be in bed."_

_"I don't care. Let's sleep in for once."_

_He chuckled, kissing her  head. "C'mon. I'll even make pancakes," he coaxed._

_She groaned, but begrudgingly got out of their bed.  The day had passed normally enough, them cuddling on the couch working on their respective projects. At 5:00, she changed for their date night, a red dress that looked just perfect next to his suit (although later she would look back at the dress and think it was a cruel twist of the cosmos that the shade of red only turned more crimson as the night went on). The restaurant he picked was fancier than their normal, and she had been so happy they'd finally procured enough time off work to go._

_Halfway through the drive, Jemma noticed something definitively wrong. The air was colder, somehow. For a moment, everything was quiet, and then gunshots rang out through the streets. She recognized the patches on the jackets. It was the HYDRA gang. They were paralyzed, unable to move the car without causing a wreck, unable to stay for fear of being killed. She caught the eye of their leader, one Grant Ward. He smirked, trigger finger poised to shoot. Fitz's eyes widened, and he covered her small frame with his own body just as Ward made the shot._

"He died instantly protecting me. And you know what they found on his body? An engagement ring." Her eyes were full of tears.

"Oh," Daisy said. She wondered briefly if this was some sort of psychological trick to capture her sympathy, but she doubted anyone could fake the sheer vastness and depth of emotion in her voice. And for a moment, she witnessed Jemma Simmons completely vulnerable.

 _Dammit, Jemma, get it together,_ she scolded herself, turning away from her prisoner. _Focus on the mission._ Y _ou can cry your poor little heart out when you get back home_.

She took a moment to compose herself and dry her tears before turning back to Daisy, her eyes as cold and unforgiving as they were at the start.

“So. Hydra specs.”

Daisy pressed her lips together, torn between options. On the one hand, she didn’t want Bobbi to be tortured, and Jemma _did_ make a good point about it being about vengeance. But, on the other hand, could she _really_ risk tens of thousands, maybe even hundreds of thousands of lives by sacrificing that information?

The knife scraped against the sharpening block repetitively. Before, the sound made her shiver in fear. Now it sounded half-hearted and empty. If she was to leave with her life and her secrets, it would be now. Discreetly, Daisy started loosening her bonds behind her back.

"I don't believe you've got it in you. You've talked big this entire time, but I've got less than a few scratches to show for it. You know what it's like to be hurt. You just can't bring yourself to do it. Pain? Not your thing."

"It's exactly my-" she protested, before being cut off by Daisy.

"No, it's not. You're too human for that. How long has it been since he died? A year? Two? Your wounds are too fresh. Too painful. No matter how you try you just can't convince yourself to hurt someone else like you were." Her eyes were strangely intense as she leaned across the table.

"I wish I could believe you myself," she said sadly. Daisy could almost convince herself they were having a normal conversation in a normal setting, two friends even. And then her bonds snapped. Loudly. Her captor's head snapped up, and her eyes narrowed. Daisy took the chance, jumping out of the chair and running for the door.

But Jemma was too fast for her. She reached over and flicked a switch on the wall, causing the door to shut and lock. Daisy skidded to a stop and whirled around, slowly beginning to step away as Jemma stepped forward with a gun in her hand.

Jemma tilted the gun towards the chair, and Daisy’s gaze flicked between the two. Daisy shook her head. She glanced around, looking for anything that might help her escape. Upon not finding anything, she looked back at Jemma, still advancing on her. Behind her, she came into contact with a wall.

_Uh oh_

The distance was soon closed, with Jemma having managed to scoot her into the corner. Jemma placed the gun gently against the bottom of her ribcage, tilted up. Daisy dared not move - if Jemma were to pull the trigger, her lungs would immediately start filling. Daisy takes a short breath, sucking in her stomach, as part of human instinct to get away from the gun.

“Back in the chair, please.” Jemma’s tone was calm and cold, void of all emotion. It terrified Daisy. How could someone who had been crying just a minute beforehand now be nothing but a robot?  Daisy opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off my a loud knock on the door.

“Yes?” Jemma called.

“Hey, boss, it’s me, Doug. I got what you wanted.”

Daisy barely repressed her shiver as a slow, calculating grin spread across Jemma’s face. “Come on in, Doug!”

* * *

 

Bobbi was bound. And if there was one thing she did not like, it was being bound so tight that she couldn't move. She really would not have gotten caught like that, but she had just finished putting away that utter fool Hunter behind bars again (and that could be extremely distracting). Bobbi tugs at restraints, subtly. She wants to get free, but doesn't want to endanger her rookie partner.

Luckily, Doug seemed not to know how to tie someone up properly. She had given it five, ten minutes until she was out of their reach. But then she had seen Daisy. Bobbi rolled her eyes. How did she always manage to get caught up in these things?

“Well," Simmons said, "Since Ms. Johnson happens to have no regard for her own life, let's see how well she responds to her partner's pain."

Daisy gasped.

"She doesn't have it in her Bobbi! She won't do it!!!" Daisy screamed as they dragged her partner away. Jemma turned her back to Daisy and clenched her fist. Because she did have it in her. No matter what anyone else said. She was not weak. She couldn’t afford to be weak.

“Davidson! Roberts! Get in here!” she barked before turning back to Daisy. She heard her two biggest henchmen scuffle into the room.

“Get Ms. Johnson back into her chair.”

She stepped back so they could do so. Jemma felt angry. Angry that she’d let Daisy get the best of her. Angry that Daisy had called her weak. She’d show her who was weak.

Once Daisy had been secured, Simmons scooped up her knife and made a beeline for Bobbi. Behind her, Daisy screamed and cried out for her to stop. She growled to herself before barking at Davidson and Roberts again.

“Put some tape over her mouth, will you? The screaming is driving me mad.”

By the time she’d made it to Bobbi, Daisy was muffled (much to her relief). She avoided looking Bobbi in the eye, refusing to make it personal. She held the knife up to Bobbi’s left shoulder, ready to slice open her flesh, when she heard Fitz’s voice in her head.

_“Jemma, stop! You’re better than this!”_

It had been months since she'd last heard that voice. Years ago, she would hear his voice every night, whispering 'goodnights' and 'I love yous'. It had been a while. Life had been rocky. For a while, she hadn't thought she would drown in her own sorrows and be done with it all. And for another (very short) while, she had thought she could forget about him completely.

But one never forgets love and one never forgets death. She was just unlucky enough to have experienced them in the same stroke. He would have disapproved of her chosen life. But how could she go back to the lab when everything she saw reminded her of them. Everything. And here she could procure information that she used to save lives. All the same, she was only justifying what she knew was wrong.

Agent Morse watched her from the floor, a curious expression on her face. "You really aren't anything like what they say about you," she said.

"How so?" she asked drily.

"Cold blooded killer, ruthless, not quite human." Jemma raised her eyebrows, but said nothing.

"You know, I looked into your past," she continued. "You never seemed like the type to turn to crime. But I suppose none of them do."

"Pain changes people," she murmured softly, turning her face away.

"But it doesn't have to be for the worse."

Bobbi’s tone was soft, and non-judgemental. It made Jemma feel, well, kind of warm inside. She’d not felt warm since Fitz was alive. It felt quite nice, if Jemma was completely honest. She felt a fresh batch of tears coming on, but she took a deep breath and held them back.

She glanced over at Daisy, fighting to free herself, to save her friend. She then looked back at Bobbi, sitting on the ground calmly and patiently; unafraid, and rather sympathetic and understanding. Jemma caved.

“Oh, what the hell,” she muttered, bringing the knife swiftly down across the ropes holding Bobbi in place. A muffled shout of “No!” could be heard from Daisy, but Daisy quieted as Jemma finished freeing Bobbi and then went over to her to free her.

Jemma turned her back, facing away from everyone in the room as Daisy cautiously rose from her chair.

“Go. Leave me.”

Behind her, there was scuffling of feet, which she recognised as her men’s footsteps, leaving the room.

“Simmons…” Daisy started softly, but Bobbi cut her off and Jemma heard her pulling Daisy away.

“Daisy, come.”

* * *

Jemma didn’t see either Bobbi or Daisy for a long while. But she did find a suspicious unmarked package on her doorstep one day. It was a plain box wrapped in plain brown paper. Inside was a USB drive with a submarine design, and a note.

_We hope you find what you’re looking for. -D and B_

Jemma allowed a small smile. Not a lot of cops would go out of their way and risk their careers to assist a criminal on a personal mission. Because of the USB drive, Jemma was able to find the information she needed, and for the next few days, she planned out how she was going to carry out her plan and how to thank Bobbi and Daisy.

She eventually decided on a gift basket, which she filled with chocolate chip cookies (with a secret ingredient, passed down through generations of Simmons's). Daisy and Bobbi were elated to walk into work and find a basket of delicious cookies waiting for them, also with a note.

_Thank you._

Jemma carried out her plan about a week after she’d given Daisy and Bobbi the cookies. She had decided it should be during the day, to avoid suspicion and make getaway easier, because she could just slip in amongst the crowds.

Walking in amongst said crowds, she spotted Grant Ward, strolling along. Strolling! He looked as if he had no worry in the world, and Jemma felt a sudden surge of anger. How could he possibly be so carefree, after all he’d done? She picked up her pace a little bit, weaving in and out of the crowds to get a bit closer.

Right when he was within arm’s reach, he slipped into a small bookstore. Jemma walked past said store and ducked into the alley right next to it. After all, she wasn’t going to kill a man in front of witnesses! That was stupid.

So she waited. It wasn’t too long before Ward exited and headed her way. She got ready, and just as he walked past, she reached out and yanked him into the alley. He seemed to too surprised to fight back.

Jemma threw him back against the wall, and shoved her gun against his stomach. “Remember me, Grant Ward?”

His eyes went wide before he smiled back at her. “Jemma Simmons. Long time, no see.”

“Going to be the last thing you see,” Jemma promised, starting to squeeze the trigger.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Ward said hurriedly, and she stopped.

“Ugh, are you going to cry now? Beg me to spare your life? Try to give me the ‘revenge won’t make anything better’ talk? Because I’m pretty sure it will.”

She could see the wheels turning in his brain, the Revenge Talk flying straight out the window. He glanced down at his bag.

“I, um, I just want to read my book before I die,” he tried. Jemma glanced at his bag, too.

“What book is it?”

“...Fifty Shades of Grey.”

 _Pathetic_ , she thought, although she refrained from saying it to his face. She had to use a large amount of willpower to keep from punching him. That book, in her opinion, was the worst book to ever exist.

But she didn’t say any of this to Grant Ward. Instead, she looked him dead in the eye and said, “Rot in hell, Grant Ward.”

She pulled the trigger. Ward’s mouth went slack from pain and he slid down the wall. Jemma watched the blood seep out of his body, forming a dark red circle on his top. He looked up at her, fear etched across his face.

“Jemma, please,” he gasped out. Jemma did nothing but continue to stare coldly at him. He deserved this. Every moment of his suffering, he deserved. He deserved to suffer as she had.

_Jemma, come on. You’re better than this. Don’t become the monster that he was._

Jemma gritted her teeth at Fitz’s voice in her head, her heart suddenly becoming soft. She looked back at Ward, and actually felt pity for him, even though she didn’t want to. Pity, then anger. Anger at him for what he did, and anger at herself for being as monstrous as he was. She raised the gun and pointed it at his head.

“Remember this mercy when you’re in hell,” she said, pulling the trigger once more. Ward’s body went limp, and she let out a shaky breath. She’d done it. She’d killed him.

She stood there in shock, until the sound of police sirens snapped her out of her shock. She blinked and ran the other way as the police pulled up at the beginning of the alley.

“Freeze! Police!” one of them called after her, getting out of the car. She didn’t listen, instead launching herself over the wire fence, leaving the police on the other side behind. She bent her knees to catch herself as she landed and sprung back up, ready to keep running, but she came face to face with Agents Morse and Johnson, guns pointed at her.

“That’s far enough,” Daisy said. “Drop it.”

Jemma released her gun and let it clatter to the ground, before raising her hands in surrender. Bobbi stepped forward.

“Turn around, hands behind your head,” she instructed, although her tone was flat, as if she were sad about doing this. Jemma sighed and obeyed the instructions. Bobbi gave her a quick pat down, making sure there were no more weapons, and then Jemma felt her hands being pulled behind her back and cuffed together.

Jemma resigned herself to silence as Bobbi led her to the car, reciting the Miranda Law to her. She didn’t say anything as Bobbi helped her into the back, and still didn’t speak as they arrived and she was lead to the interrogation room.

She was fully aware of all eyes on her, with many of the officers whispering amongst themselves of how, “That’s Jemma Simmons!”. She kept her mouth shut and her gaze low, ashamed of having been caught like this. She could have easily gotten away, had she decided not to linger.

Now, here she was, being marched through the precinct past dozens of people she’d known, and who had known her. The trip to the interrogation room was a lot longer than she would have liked. Once inside, the cuffs were taken off, and new ones attached to the table secured around her wrists.

Jemma hung her head as Bobbi left. She knew there were bound to be several familiar faces on the other side of the glass, and she didn’t want them to see her face, so she kept her head low. She was in there for what felt like an eternity before the door opened. She tilted her head just enough to see that it was her lawyer.

“How did you-”

“Not important,” he cut her off, before leaning in to begin giving her legal advice. She didn’t really listen, other thoughts occupying her mind. Besides, she knew the general gist of what he was saying; she knew enough to know what he was telling her.

She wasn’t sure how much time passed before the door opened again, and closed softly. She risked a glance up, and quickly dropped it again when she saw who it was. It was Phil Coulson.

He sat down quietly and opened the file, skimming it “You’ve got quite the list of crimes stacked against you.” His tone was soft and non-judgmental, and it’s enough to make Jemma want to cry. But she doesn’t; she refuses to. She keeps it to a short nod and a drooped head. She heard Coulson close the file.

“What happened, Jemma?” It’s barely above a whisper, and yet it reverberates off the walls of the room, as if it were a scream. It’s completely non-judgmental, only concerned, and, well, loving for a lack of a better way to describe it. Jemma can’t stop the tear that slips out of the pool of water gathering in her eyes.

“Fitz,” she whispered, and then stopped. She doesn’t trust herself to say anything else. She dug her nails into her palms in an attempt to keep the tears back. There’s a moment’s silence before,

“It was Ward, wasn’t it?” Jemma nodded quickly, chomping down on her bottom lip. There’s a scraping of a chair, and Jemma thought that he was leaving the room. Instead, she hears the chair being set down next to her, Coulson sitting down in it, and him placing a comforting hand on her back.

Jemma instinctively leaned towards him, and he responded by pulling her in close. In his arms, she couldn’t hold back the tears any longer and so began to cry.

“I-I’m so sorry,” she said in between sobs. Coulson said nothing; he only held her close, soothing her gently.

Behind the glass, Daisy pressed her hand to her mouth to keep herself from crying. Bobbi placed a hand on her shoulder.

“This isn’t right,” Daisy murmured. “This isn’t Jemma Simmons.”

Bobbi didn’t say anything; she didn’t have anything to say. She simply gave Daisy’s shoulder a small squeeze. Through the glass, Jemma sniffled and buried her head deeper into Coulson’s shoulder.

“I really am sorry, sir,” she said with a sigh, no longer crying.

“I know,” he said, giving her a small kiss on her forehead. “But I can’t erase the crimes you’ve committed.”

Jemma nodded mutely. Daisy grabbed onto Bobbi’s hand.

“This isn’t fair,” she mused sadly. “Jemma didn’t deserve any of this.”

Bobbi murmured in agreement and gave another squeeze. The two watched as Coulson went on to talk about what she was up against. Jemma and her lawyer listened quietly.

“…and all that is going to add up to a pretty hefty sentence,” Coulson finished. Jemma nodded again, still not looking directly at Coulson. Jemma’s lawyer had his mouth pursed in thought; he knew that things weren’t looking promising.

Daisy bit her tongue to keep from crying. She used to be best friends with Jemma. None of this was right.

“I’m sorry, Jemma,” Coulson said softly, putting his hand on her shoulder. Jemma shook her head.

“Don’t be, sir.” She looked him in the face for the first time since she’d been arrested. She managed a weak smile. “I deserve whatever consequences result from my actions.”

“She shouldn’t have to be that brave,” Daisy murmured, subconsciously leaning back into Bobbi for a hug.

“How long am I looking at, sir?”

“Hard to say, exactly. But it will be quite a while.”

“I understand, sir,” she sighed. Daisy knew that sigh; it signaled the end of a conversation. She tensed as Coulson nodded and got up and left the room. Daisy pulled herself from Bobbi’s grasp and also left the room she was in. She saw Coulson walking away and chased after him.

“Coulson!” He stopped and turned, allowing her to catch up. He had the same sadness in his eyes that Daisy felt in her heart. “Coulson, y-you can’t let this happen! You have to stop it!”

“I have no choice, Daisy.”

“Yes you do!” Daisy persisted, fighting back tears that burned in her eyes. Coulson shook his head.

“The law doesn’t discriminate between friends and foes, Daisy. You know this as well as any one of us here.”

“It’s not fair,” Daisy said in just above a whisper. Any louder and it would have been a wail. Coulson said nothing, only pulled her in close for a hug. She returned it, holding on tightly.

“It’s not fair,” Daisy said softly in between sobs. Coulson gently kissed the top of her head.

“The law’s very unforgiving,” he agreed.

“Can’t you do anything to spare Jemma?”

“Not from prison, no,” Daisy’s shoulders slumped and she squeezed her eyes shut to keep back more tears, “ _but_ I can do everything in my power to ensure that she’s not in there too long.”

Daisy’s head shot up, her eyes suddenly tentatively hopeful. “Really?”

Coulson nodded. “She was one of the best cadets. Sending her to prison for a long time is a waste of good brains and talent.”

“What can I do?” Daisy asked, pulling back and swiping at her eyes.

“I’ll let you know at the time.” Daisy nodded, almost laughing as she heard Hunter’s very loud voice from behind her.

“Hey! Get off me, ya filthy fuzz!” At that moment, Bobbi poked her head out of the viewing room and chuckled to herself, shaking her head.

“Hunter!” Both Hunter and the cops hauling him along to the interrogation room next to Jemma’s stopped. “What are you still living in the sixties? _No one_ calls cops the “fuzz” anymore!”

“You’re just jealous that I know more history than you, love,” he teased with a wink. She rolled her eyes.

“No, you’ve just been reading _The Outsiders_ again.” She gave a flick of her hand and her fellow cops continued marching him towards the interrogation room. Daisy put a hand over her mouth to hide her giggles.

“Bob? Bobbi? Hey! I want my lawyer! Mack! Mack! Oi!”

* * *

 

**_3 years later_ **

****"I can't believe you did this for me! It's all very sweet," she says, smiling at the little celebration her friends have assembled for her.

"Of course!" Daisy responded, "Fresh out of prison and straight into the Science department!"

Hunter laughed "I still can't believe our little princess is a hardened jail bird."

"Well," Bobbi said, "She did kill a man."

The room was silent for a moment, shuddering, until Mack said, "As her lawyer, I have to remind you not to bring that up, it can come off as incriminating."

The party laughed, Hunter reaching for another slice of pizza. It had been three years since she had shot the most evil person she had ever come in contact with in her life through the heart, just like he had shot Fitz. She had spent most of that time in prison, and the minority of it fighting for a reduced sentence in court on the basis of heartbreak and emotional instability.

Mack was a good lawyer, and with the rest of May and Co., he had gotten her a good deal. Bobbi had worked her magic in the police department, and after Coulson remembered the promising cadet she had been, he had worked to get her a position as soon as she was free. And here she was, with a job and friends and a free life left to live. She started to tear up.

"Thank you," she murmured, overwhelmed with the knowledge of how much these people meant to her.

And then there was Fitz. She supposed that there would always be Fitz in the back of her mind. One could never get over pain so deep, only conceal it to a certain extent. She regretted killing Ward. Not because she thought her actions had been an overreaction, but because she thought he should have had to suffer more in the realm of the living. But she wouldn't dwell on the past. She swore not to. She was here now, and she was happy. This was the life worth living.

**Author's Note:**

> Check us out on Tumblr, @delicatelyglitteryperson and @inevitablies  
> Thanks for reading!  
> (also, any discrepancies in spelling/lingo are due to regional factors)


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